Fireplace
by Yellow Zinnia
Summary: (One-shot) Daine and Numair four years after ROtG. Fluff. It does a body good... (2004 Nominee in the Tortallan Heroes Awards!)


**Rating:** PG   
**Paring:** D/N, it's the ONLY way to go! :)  
**Disclaimer:** All characters, places and plots belong to Tamora Pierce. I just borrow them now and again for my own nefarious purposes.**  
A/N: **This one-shot does not take place during my AU, it's set four years after ROtG. I was feeling fluffy today...  
  
**Fireplace****  
  
**Strangely, for a young woman who had been born and raised in the frigid north of Galla, Daine had never really gotten used to being cold. She pulled her quilted jacket more tightly around her body in a desperate but fruitless effort to get warm.   
  
Through the window of the ramshackle wooden shed, she could see even more snow lightly falling from the gray sky. Daine hurriedly poured grain from various sacks into two large tin buckets. Slipping into her work-worn leather gloves, she lifted the buckets and braced herself against the chill she knew was waiting for her beyond the meager protection of the palace feed shed.  
  
The distance between the feed shed and the stables was really only fifty feet at best, but it felt like a hundred miles to the shivering girl who finally burst through the doors of the royal stables, setting her heavy buckets on the straw covered ground and shaking snow from her brown curls. Now that she was inside a well-insulated building that was steadily heated by warmth from the bodies of several horses, Daine could feel her limbs tingle as the chill began to leave them. However, her stomach still quivered at what felt like a dense knot of ice within her.  
  
Promising herself a hot bath to _really_ warm up later, she poured the grain into various feed troughs and spoke silently to her friends as they came to eat. Her own gray mare, Cloud, pushed an insistent head against Daine's side until she laughed, stroked her pony's forehead, and pulled an apple from her pocket. Munching happily, Cloud stood still while Daine ran a currycomb over her flanks.   
  
After the last horse had been fed and groomed, the wildmage bid good-night to her friends and grudgingly opened the door to the outside. Her warmed arms and legs immediately filled with ice again, and by the time Daine reached the back doors of the kitchens, she was shaking with sharp pain as well as cold. The steam-filled kitchen did little to defrost her, and she hurried through the chilly stone corridors to the grand staircase that lead to the west wing of the palace, and to her own (hopefully) warmer rooms.  
  
She finally reached the familiar green door that bore two nameplates. Still trembling violently, she fumbled through her pockets and cursed her clumsy fingers that were too cold to grasp a set of keys. Upon hearing soft clinking and less than soft swearing from the other side of the door, Numair rose from his seat on the sofa to turn the knob himself.  
  
Daine smiled up into his swarthy face and lifted her arms like a child. The tall mage laughed and picked her up. She wrapped her legs around his waist and buried her cold face into the crook of his bare neck. Numair shivered at the little icy kisses she trailed across his collarbone and carried her over to the overstuffed sofa that sat before their large brick fireplace.  
  
Sinking back into the plush fabric of the couch, he held his lover firmly on top of him, not willing to let her leave his grasp despite her cold hands and the snow stuck in the folds of her goosedown jacket. Daine's lips began to warm as they pressed against his throat, she toed off her boots and unbuttoned her jacket, never breaking contact. Numair unwound the woolen scarf from her neck and his large hands slipped underneath her jacket and heavy sweater to brush across the cool expanse of her back. She sighed and sank deeper into his embrace. That familiar fluttering in her stomach that she got whenever he was near combined with the tingling of her nerve endings as warmth was restored to her skin. Her breath hitched as Numair's mouth eased over hers, drawing cold and tension easily from her body. His fingers traced imaginary patterns on her bare skin and she could feel that incorrigible knot of ice within her melt and evaporate at his heat.  
  
Her fingers twisted through his thick hair and she opened her own swollen lips to his teasing ones. Once they were finally satiated, they drew apart. Daine blushed slightly as she smoothed her mussed hair and went to hang up her rumpled outerclothes. Numair chuckled and gestured to the fireplace lazily with one hand, red and gold flames springing to life at his powerful Gift's command. He stretched out across the velvet of the couch, mentally pouting at the sudden loss of Daine's body against his.  
  
Grabbing a blanket from their bedchamber, Daine wrapped it around herself and walked back into the main room. She smiled at the merry fire crackling on the hearth and took a moment to look at the simple splendor that surrounded her. Though their rooms were not as expensively stylized and decorated as some of the other living quarters in the royal palace at Corus, Daine and Numair had chosen deep mahogany, burgundy, and blue hues to lend an easy elegance to their home in the capital. Wide windows looked out over the palace gardens, and thick rugs covered the wooden flooring. Numair's eclectic taste in art gave the walls color, and several tall bookshelves betrayed the varied interests of the pair.   
  
As her eyes played along the lines of the room to settle on her lover's lanky form the thanked the gods (not for the first time) for bringing her to Tortall eight years ago.   
  
I'm getting lonely over here, sweet. Numair complained as he watched her stand there silently. Daine rolled her eyes and grinned, moving over to the sofa.  
  
Hands on her hips, she mockingly glared down at the mage. There's no place for me to sit. He smiled broadly and pulled her down on top of him, his arms snaking around her torso to hold her to his chest. Daine laughed and wriggled in his embrace. She began tickling him mercilessly, and he fought to keep his composure, tears of mirth forming in his eyes. He finally released her with a gasp, and although she stopped tickling, she made no motion to leave her position on his chest, instead tucking her blanket around the both of them and leaning her head on his shoulder.   
  
They lay there in silence for a time, watching the dancing flames in the fireplace. Daine's mind began to wander to thoughts of the man next to her. They had shattered all the expectations anyone had had for their relationship. The scattered criticism of their age difference had long died out from the circles of court gossip. Even their own timid misgivings and questions concerning the quality of their commitment had faded in the last four years. From the first day they'd met, Daine and Numair had challenged one another. No one made her as frustrated as he did. No one made her as happy, either. There was an honest, almost innocent quality to their love for each other- a rare find for two people who had been so disillusioned by life's misfortunes. Loving Numair was so Gods-blessed _easy_. And as she watched a log split and crack in the heat of the fireplace, Daine realized that she was finally ready to take a step she'd once wondered if she would ever take.  
  
She pushed herself up on her forearms and looked into Numair's sleepy eyes. Heat from the fire swelled around them, and Daine's heartbeat thudded nervously in her throat. What is it, magelet? he asked, using his pet name for her.  
  
She smoothed his long hair away from his eyes and took a breath. Will you marry me? she asked in a whisper.  
  
He bolted to a sitting position, bringing her with him. Say it again.  
  
She smiled. Numair Samalin, I want to marry you more than anything in the world.  
  
He gathered her into a more secure position on his lap and rested his forehead against hers. One more time? he asked with a grin.  
  
She laughed and slugged his shoulder playfully. Then she leaned in close again, kissing him intermittently as she spoke. I... love... you,... you... dolt!... Will... you... marry... me?  
  
He stood up quickly, lifting her off her feet and spinning her around in front of the blazing fire. His lips claimed hers, trembling as if it were their first kiss.   
  



End file.
